


Pass the Cream

by KateKintail



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a naval battle, Horatio requests a little company from Bush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass the Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> authors choice #217 - pass the cream challenge - any pairing - any length

“And she’s ours!” The cries of victory were like bells to Captain Hornblower’s tone-deaf ears. One did not need to be commended for properly handling work one was employed to do. However, it was natural to take pride in a particularly successful accomplishment. And capturing a French vessel without loss of life was no small feat.

Hornblower cleared his throat loudly, wanting to be heard above the din, which quieted at once. “Hastings, I want you to take your men and board her. Sail her North by Northeast a quarter East and you’ll find yourself at an English port before sundown.”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” The young man had only just made lieutenant but he had performed admirably during the battle and the boarding and deserved the prize. Besides that, Horatio trusted Hastings’ abilities and the loyalty of his company. It was a fine choice, he knew, and good news to start the day always put everyone in a pleasant mood. “Now as for the rest of you, back to your stations or you won’t be toasting the king’s health any time soon.” Of course, a few stern threats never hurt the workings of a crew either.

He felt a hand pat his back. Normally he would have detested such physical contact in front of the crew, but he knew Bush was taking advantage of the situation and he could allow that this time because, damn it, he felt like he could do with a little physical contact. He’d been dead on his feet for close to twenty-seven hours now, but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. And one look into First Lieutenant William Bush’s eyes told Hornblower he felt likewise.

“Would you like to join me in my cabin this morning?” he asked. And, hastily in case anyone overheard, he added, “For breakfast. Naturally.”

Bush cocked his head. “Oh, naturally. I can’t remember when I last had a decent bite.”

“It’s settled then. What would you like?”

Bush stared straight at him. “Sausage.”

Horatio’s eyes widened slightly, but he otherwise tried not to show surprise. “Sausages?”

“Oh, just the one would be fine, Sir.”

Horatio nodded. “Eggs scrambled loose or—”

“Hard.”

“Hard?”

“Yes, I like it very hard.”

“And coffee. You take it—”

“Strong. I like it strong.”

Hornblower swallowed. “I’ll see you in my cabin shortly. You have the wheel for now, Lieutenant. Steady on the course set, and mind the morning mists.”

Bush touched a finger to his hat in respect. “Continuing on course. Aye, Captain.”

Bush commanded until Second Lieutenant Roberts had secured the French prisoners in the brig, a whole fleet of lobsters standing guard. He relayed the captain’s orders and waited a beat to be sure Roberts had the thing in hand. Then he headed down to the captain’s cabin, intending to take something entirely different in hand.

But when he got to Horatio’s cabin, he found the table laden with breakfast items. Taken aback for a moment, Bush quickly checked his emotions. He should have known better. Horatio Hornblower was the most literal man he had ever known. The Navy was his specialty. Horatio knew ships, maneuvers, charts, and strategy; he knew little and cared little for the subtleties of social discourse.

Bush would just need to be a little more obvious. He sat down to dine, placing a napkin upon his lap and rubbing his napkin-clad thigh for a moment to get the wrinkles out. His gaze on his eggs, Horatio did not even notice.

Bush reached for a biscuit that was probably stale. He tapped it on the table out of habit to get the worms out, and then he motioned toward the small pot across the table. “Would you please pass the cream?”

Hornblower picked it up and offered it over. Bush made to take it, but his fingers did not take proper hold of the base and he dropped it. It fell onto his lap and he caught it before it could hit the wooden floor and break into pieces. But the damage was done. “Oh dear! Your cream spilled on me, Horatio.” He put the put on the table and stuck two fingers in his mouth. “Your cream tastes good, but it’s all over me.”

Practically choking on his breakfast, Hornblower flushed a bright red. “William, are you… what I mean is… do you mean—”

“I do so mean. You’re brilliant, Horatio. I knew you’d get there in the end. Yes, of course I do mean so.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” 

Bush shrugged. “After so long, Sir, I thought you knew how I get after a good battle.” Blood pumped through him, pulse quick, nerves on edge. His arms longed to take Horatio in them, his body longed to feel Horatio on top of it, his cock longed to have Horatio’s hand on it. “I thought it went without saying.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” Hornblower stood. He looked Bush up and down, disapproving of the ruined uniform. “It’s a tragic loss of cream, but you’d better take those pants off before the stain sets in. I’ll have a look at them.” 

With a nod, Bush took off his pants and handed them over to his captain. “Do you think they’ll…” He trailed off and smiled. He lifted his head, smile morphing into a grin. “You weren’t concerned about the pants, were you, Horatio? You mean—”

“I do mean.” Hornblower dropped the pants and guided Bush onto his bunk. He cupped his hand to Bush’s crotch. He pressed himself against Bush’s front. And he relaxed in Bush’s arms. “And you’re mine.”


End file.
